SUBJECTIVE REALITY

by John
Vorhaus

  "What makes you think those players are any better than the ones you already face?"  This question was put to me recently as I contemplated moving up to a new, high level, but feared that my opponents there would be some kind of perfect poker bots capable of shredding me the instant I sat down.  It got me thinking... where had I encountered that fear before?

That's right: the last time I moved up.

Think about your own experience of playing at successively higher levels.  When you approach the new level, you approach it with a certain trepidation, a fear based on the assumption that, just because they're playing for more money they must necessarily be playing better poker.  This may be true, but then again it may not.  Until you test the assumption, you won't know for sure.

You have tested similar assumptions before.  You moved up from a lower limit to a higher one and found – mirable dictu! – that those players put their pants on one leg at a time just like you do.  Maybe, once you found this out, you even wondered what took you so long to move up.  Now you know: fear, and assumptions; in short, subjective reality.

Can you remember being in fourth grade and looking at the sophistication and intelligence of the fifth graders and thinking, "Geez, I'll never be that smart"?  Then fifth grade came, and it didn't seem like such a problem.  By the time you got to sixth grade, those fifth graders seemed quite quaint and small.  Same with your poker.  If all you play is $2-4, then the $4-8 game looks huge, and the players look like champs.  But if all you play is $20-40, the game looks vanishingly small and the players more like chumps or chimps.  It's all about subjective reality:  What you see depends on where you stand.

You can use subjective reality to manipulate the way other players react and relate to you.  We've talked, for example, about the impact it has on your foes when you buy into a game for twice as much as anyone else.  Objective reality says that you're not gambling any more or less than you otherwise would: You're prepared to put some fixed part of your bankroll into play.  But if you put it all into play at the start, if you make a statement with it, you shape how people perceive you.  Maybe they think you're a bully.  Maybe they think you're a showboat.  Maybe they think you're insane.  In every case it's better than having them think you're a normal player whom they can easily beat.  And when a new player sits down in the game, his own untested assumptions will cause him to look at your big pile of chips and conclude that you're a big winner, a force to be feared.

Or you could try the table dance:  Sit down in a new game and immediately ask for a table change.  If the game you're in and the game that becomes available are equally good, go ahead and dance on over to the new table.  Why?  Because a player taking a table change is often perceived as a player in retreat.  Why would he change tables unless he couldn't beat the game he was in?  When you change tables on this basis, you let other players' false assumptions – their subjective reality – work for you.  You come into the game looking like a player who's running scared.  Those players among your foes who routinely get out of line will now get extra out of line because they think they see an easy mark.  You then prove them wrong with superior play, and they find themselves wondering how they could have misjudged you so badly.  Answer: You guided them to a false conclusion. 

But you have to be careful with subjective reality.  It is, as they say, a powerful force that can only be used for good or for evil.

Contemplate, for example, the distinction between junk and junque.  Junque is a word I use to describe hands that look like junk, but can be played profitably in certain situations, especially in concert with subjective reality.  Suppose you've just table danced into a new hold 'em game, and early on you pick up 8-9s.  Most players wouldn't raise with this hand, and mostly I wouldn't either.  But if I've painted a picture of myself as someone who's running scared or tilty from another game, I might take a shot with it.  If my hand hits, I have the benefit of huge deception, and if it misses, I can get away from it cheaply enough, no real harm done.

But that's junque.  What if it's junk?  What if that hand is 8-3, and I try to make the exact same move?  Then I'm in there running a pure bluff from the start.  That's not so good.  That's actual chaos, as opposed to perceived chaos, and that's just a whole different kettle of fish.

So remember, this subjective reality business cuts both ways.  As you study yourself, your opponents and your relationship to the game, understand that things are not always what they seem; for instance, players at higher levels may not be as dominating as you think.  Test your assumptions.  At the same time, recognize that your less-informed, more straightforward opponents may not be testing theirs, and that you can use their fixed perceptions against them. 

Just don't confuse the two. 

Don't confuse deception with delusion.

Don't confuse junque with junk. 

Don't justify a bad move by calling it elegant misdirection.  Dig a little deeper and you may find that your primary motivation is not to win money but just to be in action.  In that case, you have crossed the line from deception to delusion, and subjective reality is eroding your play and your stack.

Be tricky.  By all means be as tricky as humanly possible.  Just don't become so tricky that you lose sight of why you're doing what you're doing.  Your goal, after all, is to trick your opponents.

Not yourself.